


Breaking Point

by TribeOfTheForsaken



Series: Lunar Eclipse [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Qrow Branwen, Dark Oscar Pine, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, Just Tortures Him With Sex Toys, Let's Wreck Qrow, M/M, Moonshine, Older Victim, Oscar Doesn't Actually have Sex With Qrow, Overstimulation, Qrow Branwen Is A Victim, Sex Toys, Sexual Torture, Top Oscar Pine, Younger Assaulter, unhealthy past relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TribeOfTheForsaken/pseuds/TribeOfTheForsaken
Summary: Qrow never thought he would need to fear being alone with Oscar. He was very, very wrong.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Oscar Pine
Series: Lunar Eclipse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960612
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> 💙Nyx

Qrow groaned as he lifted his head, trying to stretch only to realize that he couldn’t move. Panic set in as he registered that his eyes were covered and that there was some kind of gag in his mouth at the same time. The chill in the room made it painfully obvious that he was naked, setting off a new wave of panic to be forced down. He knew, logically, that panic was his greatest enemy. That it would get him killed before it saved him. He’d long since learned how best to hold it down so he could think more clearly, so he could survive. Once he’d calmed his breathing, he tried to listen for any sounds, testing the bindings that held him when he heard nothing. The bindings held tight, the feeling of sturdy leather straps around his wrists and ankles, stone under his feet. He could feel other straps across his chest and back, his waist and hips as well. He didn’t understand until a hard jerk at the restraints caused whatever structure he was bound to to shift. Then he figured out it was designed to tilt so he could be laid flat. His hands clenched helplessly as he tried to go back and figure out where he was and what had happened. 

He’d been struggling with the idea of quitting his drinking, on the edge of the decision but not falling one way or the other just yet. He’d gone to a bar, come out far too drunk for his own good, and been found by… Oscar. He thought he’d stumbled over the boy and apologized, not just for the collision but for everything. The village, the train, the punch, not being enough to stop Hazel, all of it. Everything he could possibly regret regarding Oz’s newest host. He thought he remembered Oscar saying everything was going to be okay. Qrow had noticed, even drunk, that he said it would be okay, not that it was, which was fair and he’d admitted so. Then Oscar had said something about taking him to the safehouse Oz had hidden away in Argus until he sobered up and Qrow had followed along because he wasn’t ready to face any of the kids as he was. He didn’t remember anything after getting inside. Was he still in the safehouse? Was Oscar okay or what he tied up too? He couldn’t hear anything that would indicate the kid was trapped here with him. Did that mean he was being held elsewhere?

There was a noise above him causing him to tense, the muffled sound of a door opening and closing. He thought there might have been the heavy click of a lock sliding into place but his attention was drawn to the footsteps thudding across the floor, trying to gather as much information as he could with as restricted as he was. The footsteps were fairly close together, so not someone with a long stride. Not heavy but not quite light either. Someone with a small stature who wasn’t used to sneaking around but could manage it if they had to. He figured that if all the sound was above him then he must be in a basement, which certainly explained the chilled air around him even if it didn’t explain anything else. The sounds got closer and he heard another door open, this time much more clearly and the footsteps started coming down the stairs after the door closed. Qrow drew in a deep breath, trying to brace himself for whatever had happened and whatever was about to come. 

“Oh! You’re awake already.” Qrow froze in shock, completely thrown by the familiar voice. Oscar didn’t seem at all surprised that he was naked and bound, only that he was conscious. There was no way that the young farm boy had stripped him and tied him up. It was too crazy to even consider that he could have done it. He couldn’t be the one responsible for Qrow’s current situation. Could he? As Qrow’s thoughts spun through his head, making him nearly dizzy as he tried to figure things out, Oscar continued on as if they were both having a normal everyday conversation. “I guess I was gone longer than I realized but it was a bit difficult to get everything I needed. I get memories from Ozma’s past lives in dreams, you know? But they don’t always have context and nothing is really explained so they can be confusing. A lot of it I have to guess at and figure out on my own since Oz has gone quiet but I’ve managed pretty well with what I’ve gotten so far.” The entire time he was speaking, there was rustling as he set up whatever he had brought with him. 

Qrow wanted to ask what was going on but couldn’t manage anything more than a confused sound due to the gag. It was ignored as Oscar continued doing whatever he was doing and Qrow really wished he could at least see what the kid was planning. After a few tense minutes passed, he felt a hand come to rest on his hip, thumb tracing the green mark on his hip bone. Oscar traced the large “O” a few times before moving to the small “z” overlaying it slightly. Qrow trembled slightly at the touch, warmth spreading from the contact, more used to the rough and tumble kind of encounters he had after a night at a bar when he actually indulged in such things at all. For all the stories he teased his nieces with, it was very rare for him to actually go through with one-night stands because he could never be sure who was with Salem and who wasn’t and while Oz hadn’t necessarily been possessive, he also hadn’t been pleased when long missions demanded Qrow stray to gather information.

“Ozan is the one that gave you this right? Am I remembering that correctly?” Qrow wasn’t sure if the thoughtful murmur was a rhetorical question or not but he gave a slight nod anyways. The warmth of the touch became more intense, mimicking the feel of the original branding. 

He remembered that night, back in their first year of Beacon when Ozan had been headmaster. He remembered how he’d been called to the office shortly after they’d been told of Salem and given the gift of flight. How the larger, older man had flirted with him, just seventeen and still so fresh to the attention that was being given to him. The way that he’d been coaxed into the other’s lap, large hands bracketing his narrow hips. He remembered the slight burn as the magic branded him as Oz’s. He remembers how pleased he’d felt to belong. To a person, a place, to have a proper purpose in his life. How it felt to be _wanted_ when so many rejected him because of the risks his semblance brought. That someone so high up, so powerful _wanted him_ was a heady rush. He’d gladly gone along with everything the older man had told him to do, followed all his instructions, relying completely on his experience and teaching to be good for Ozan. 

It had hurt in ways he couldn’t describe when Ozan had died near the end of their second year, the title of headmaster falling to one of the few in his inner circle until he reincarnated. He’d felt like his chest was constricted, the brand a constant throb on his hip. He’d been grateful, so grateful, that he’d been allowed to keep Ozan’s cane safe with him until he came back to get it.

Even so, Ozpin’s arrival halfway through their third year had been a relief, allowing Qrow to take the first real breath he’d had since news of Ozan’s murder. The man had returned younger than most of the students, started as a Professor before taking over as headmaster again for their fourth year only because those who knew the truth stood for him. But things between them hadn’t stopped. Not at all. Oz had continued to call on him, continued to coax and teach him. It had been such a relief to know that the other still wanted him. He’d been quick to learn the differences between Ozan’s body and Ozpin’s, adapted to the changes easily so he would still be wanted. So he would still belong. 

It hadn’t occurred to him to try to learn Oscar’s body. With Ozpin, the divide between him and Ozan had been nearly indistinguishable by the time he’d returned to Beacon, perhaps because of the age Ozpin had been when Ozma had merged with him. With Oscar and Ozpin, there was still clearly a difference between the two. And with how young Oscar was, he hadn’t ever thought he’d be expected to please him as he had his two previous incarnations. He hadn’t put the kid and sex in the same thought at all, but if he had then he would have figured Oscar would favor someone from his own generation to experiment with. He wouldn’t have thought Oscar would want to continue the relationship with him. The thought was occurring to him now, though he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with it. He’d been older than Ozpin but not by much. Not enough for it to be a concern like it had been between him and Ozan. 

Oscar was younger than even Ruby. Young enough to be his son, if Qrow had ever taken the risk of having children. The idea of any kind of sex with him was… unsettling at best, but he didn’t seem to have an actual choice in the matter. The fact that the difference in their ages was actually less than the one between him and Ozan barely registered. Ozan was a host to a immortal spirit. _Everyone_ was going to be a child compare to that.This was different because Oscar, not Oz, was the one in control.

As the hand began to stroke up and down his thigh, drawing him from his thoughts, it registered that Oscar was still wearing his gloves. The fabric was slightly rough against his sensitive skin and he shivered again in slight displeasure at the sensation. The other hand found his body, began tracing over him as it familiarized itself with his form. He whimpered as his body began to respond to the touches against his will, the straps of leather holding him in place so he couldn’t shift away from the exploring hands. 

“I’ve been curious since I first started getting their memories…” Oscar’s voice, his touch circled behind him, dragging along his side until it had to leave him because of the rack holding him captive. He bucked with a squeak when a covered finger ran down his spine to find his pucker, instinctively trying to get away from the unexpected touch. His heart rate picked up, thundering in his ears as a small hand held his hips still, the seeking touch becoming a little more forceful. His back bowed within the restraints as it pushed into him, rough and wet from the lube soaking into the gloves, shouted behind the gag as it shoved hard to penetrate him. He could feel the rest of Oscar’s knuckles as they brushed against his ass when he twisted his hand, pushing and pulling in what Qrow knew was a motion to loosen him for more fingers. He panted behind the gag, writhing in the leather bonds as another finger pushed in uncomfortably far too soon. It had been too long since he’d been with anyone, the last time had been Oz before he’d been sent out to find Amber. After that things had been too busy, too chaotic, there had been no time for such indulgences. 

Oscar’s fingers twisted, spreading and searching, though Qrow thought his hands may be too small for what he was looking for. If that was actually what he was doing anyways. He could tell the difference in the touches, what motions were influenced by the memories of Ozpin and Ozan and which ones were Oscar. He wondered, as the two fingers spread and bent, still reaching inside him, if Oscar was going to keep his gloves on for the entire time or take them off when his curiosity got the better of him. A third finger forced it’s way into him, the fabric dragging against his rim. It burned in a way that he wasn’t completely familiar with. Both of Oz’s previous incarnations had been bare handed when they were with him. His nerves weren’t quite sure how to handle the sensory input of the fabric rubbing against his insides. He squirmed when a fourth finger fought to get inside him, something about the angle of it being off in his mind. 

It was when a fifth finger breached him, overcoming the resistance of his body, that he realized that Oscar was using both hands and had three from one hand in him with two from the other. 

Qrow’s heart leapt when he was stretched further, knowing now that there was going to be a sixth finger soon. A muffled, hoarse yell escaped him, tears forming in his eyes behind the blindfold, when it came. The six fingers pulled outward, opening him forcefully in a way that ripped a scream from his throat. The burn of the stretch was more intense than anything Oz had done to him before and for a few brief seconds he forgot that this _wasn’t Oz_ at all. It was Oscar, fully and completely Oscar, doing this to him while he was strapped in place, unable to escape. Tears soaked the blindfold, leaking through the fabric to wet his cheeks as the teen continued to pull him open experimentally. He started shaking in the bindings, wanting to pull away from the hands putting his limits to the test but helpless to do so. The fabric of the gloves was becoming an uncomfortable grating sensation as the lube dried in it and he prayed, begged, in his mind for the kid to take them off. Skin he could handle, the rough cloth was making him doubt if he’d make it through whatever Oscar had planned. 

The hunter sagged in relief when the gloved fingers were removed, leaving him aching and burning inside. The footsteps moved in front of him again, he could hear Oscar moving things about, worry threading through him. He knew Ozan and Ozpin, knew what was expected of him, knew what they would do when they called on him. He had no idea about Oscar. The teenager seemed more interested in toying with him to see how he would react than anything else at the moment and since he was currently blind, he had no real way to even guess what he would do. He had no way to try to get the information either, not with the gag in his mouth. Which may have been why it was there. Oscar may well have remembered how Qrow could provoke people into revealing more than they intended from his predecessor’s memories and gagged him to prevent it from happening. Oscar was behind him again, one hand grabbing a cheek and pulling. He could feel the thumb brush his rim, glove still rough against the sensitive skin before something small was pushed into him. 

He waited to see what Oscar would do next, uncertainty thrumming through every fiber of his being. His nervousness spiked when something else started to push in, confused at what the kid was planning. The new object felt larger the further it was pushed in and once the bulb slid past the ring of muscle, causing him to jerk, he realized it was some kind of plug. He shifted nervously when Oscar tilted the base, angling the plug up so that he could tug on the cord Qrow hadn’t noticed. He felt the small object that had first entered him slide down at the pull and wedge itself between the end of the plug and his prostrate. He whimpered when Oscar released his hold, allowing the plug to press down on what Qrow was beginning to fear was a vibrator. His hands clenched helplessly as he tried to shift in the bindings, his breath hitching at what he suspected was about to happen. The gloved hands fondled his ass for a moment, like Oscar was admiring the view for a moment before he walked back to the front. 

A muffled yelp left him when, instead of turning on the controls, Oscar tugged at one of his nipples _hard_ , gloves feeling just as rough here as they had while stretching him. The farm boy pulled and twisted until Qrow was sure the flesh was red from the abuse, not seeming to mind any of the whimpers or whines barely quieted by the gag. He shrieked when something bit down on the tender flesh, pulling down slightly. _Clamps._ The realization made it’s way into his fuzzy mind. _Weighted clamps._ He shuddered as those rough gloves slid down his sides, over his hips to the insides of his thighs. One hand left his skin and suddenly Qrow was screaming behind the gag as his world shattered, the vibrator inside him shaking him to his core. The hunter threw his head back, another round of screams ripped out of him when the intensity ramped up even more. He was shaking, squirming, _thrashing,_ in the leather that imprisoned him, hard enough that the frame holding him up rattled. 

His head spun, thoughts whiting out as he came unwillingly, his body clenching down on the invading objects. The continued vibrations on his prostrate made his eyes roll back, mewling a whine as it became too much. He would have begged for mercy, for a rest, for any kind of peace if he could have but he couldn’t. All he could do was bite down on the gag as a sob shook him, muscles convulsing at the overload. Through it all there was nothing more than an interested “huh” from his captor, one gloved hand resting back on his hip so a thumb could trace the brand again. He felt a slight shift from the teen, the cord brushing his skin for just a second, and he hoped that maybe it would be turned off long enough for him to catch his breath and recover. Instead it was turned up, dragging a wail out of him, tears streaming down his face and Qrow was begging through the gag for it to _stop, just please stop._ It was too much. Far, far too much and he couldn’t breathe through the intensity of it tearing through his nerves. 

It didn’t stop and honestly he hadn’t expected it to. His body reacted to the continued stimulation regardless of what he wanted, becoming hard again faster than he thought he should be able to. He howled when a rough glove grabbed his over-sensitive cock, gripping it experimentally. The small hand ran a thumb along the bottom edge of the head causing a hard shudder to wrack his already shaking body. The hand started moving, stroking up and down slowly as Oscar got a feel for the motion, twisting occasionally when he felt like trying it out. Qrow’s hips instinctually tried to jerk away from the touch, unable to escape due to the leather that held him immobile. He might, _might_ , have been able to handle the touch just a little bit if Oscar would _take off the gloves._ He didn’t know where Oscar had gotten any of this stuff or if the rack had always been there but he couldn’t really be concerned with that right now. All of his attention was being consumed by the vibrator still buzzing inside him and the hand that was playing with him like he was a new toy. Which, fair enough, wasn’t far from the truth at the moment.

Qrow’s breaths came in weak sobs as Oscar continued to toy with him, gloves dragging harshly against his skin. A high moan was worked out of him as Oscar milked him through a second orgasm, humming thoughtfully as Qrow swayed in the restraints. His body quaked, muscles aching as Oscar’s hands left him. A bolt of fear penetrated his muddled mind. He wasn’t sure what else could be done to him but he wasn’t exactly in any rush to find out, not that he had been asked his opinion. Oddly it felt like Oscar was fastening some kind of belt on him, then he felt a strap come down between his ass cheeks to hold the plug in place, splitting in the front so that his cock and balls were left untouched. He wasn’t sure what the purpose was except maybe to keep the plug inside him but he wasn’t even sure how he would have gotten it out without Oscar pulling it out anyways. 

Oscar was behind him again, Qrow could feel the damned gloves as he shifted the strap and fiddled with the plug. Qrow was confused for all of a few seconds, then he felt the change. All his breath left him in a rush, lungs freezing as the damned thing began to grow inside him, buzzing on it’s own as the inflation mechanics worked. He wanted to scream, to beg, plead, pray, wail, _anything_ that would make Oscar stop it as the plug grew larger and larger inside him, pressing the still active vibrator harder and harder into his prostate. He jerked hard in the bindings, fighting to get free as the strap kept the plug firmly inside him when it’s own size would have forced it out, finally gaining the breath he needed to scream, throwing his head back as he struggled. 

_Oh gods._ Oscar was going to kill him. He was sure of it as that thumb brushed over his brand again, a third rush building up inside him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep up with the teen’s demands on his body. It was too much all at once. A pathetic moan slid past the gag as the third wave crashed over him, threatening to drown him and drag him into oblivion. Somehow, some way, against all logic he stayed conscious, trembling hard as his head fell forward on his collar bone. He could have _sworn_ he heard Oscar chuckle but his head was spinning too much for him to be certain. His breath shuddered, rattling in his chest as he tried to recover while the vibrator and plug were still active. It was a lost battle but for some reason he fought it anyways, trying to gain a clear thought as those rough gloves slid over him again. 

The glided up his sides to his pecs, thumbs lifting to flick the weights and startling a screech out of him. With everything else, the weight on the clamps had been easily ignored but now it seemed Oscar had decided they needed attention. He tugged at them, letting the weights go to swing only to pick them back up again. He yelped when Oscar pulled on the weights, holding them for a moment before letting them go and suddenly Qrow realized that the weights were vibrators as well. He shook, sobbing hard as Oscar grabbed his hard-again cock, the other hand going back to stroking over the mark Ozan had left. Heat scorched his body from the inside, burning away any rational thought he had left as a fourth orgasm seared his mind. 

“Hmm.” He felt Oscar’s breath on his face seconds before a tongue licked up his cheeks, cleaning away the tears that still ran down them. “Two more and then I think I’ll be done for tonight.”

 _No, gods, no._ Qrow let out a plaintive whine, begging without words for mercy. _No more, please no more._ But Oscar had already stepped away. He felt the teen return, sliding something under the strap behind his balls and he quaked, fearing yet another vibrator in a place where he was certain he’d never be able to take it. Not with the one inside him. Not when they were so close together with _that spot_ trapped between them. Qrow shook his head, whimpering weakly and keening as he tried to squirm loose to stop what was coming. When Oscar turned it on he screamed, collapsing helplessly in the straps, no longer able to even try holding himself up in the bindings. The whole time he could feel the coarse gloved thumb rubbing over his mark. He came again, barely hearing the soft encouragements from Oscar, promises of just one more and he could rest.

His body convulsed, a high wounded noise echoing in the basement as Oscar turned up the intensity of the vibrators all the way. Qrow sobbed once before he couldn’t breath anymore, the overload too much for his nerves and senses. It was too much pleasure, too much pain, too much everything and his mind was blacking out, unsure how to cope with all the input. Behind the blindfold, his eyes rolled back when the back of Oscar’s fingers grazed the underside of his too sensitive cock, flicking the head. With one last hoarse scream as if he were dying, Qrow came a sixth time, shaking through it as everything kept buzzing before it finally overwhelmed him to the point that he just couldn’t anymore. 

The last thing he heard was Oscar telling him what a wonderful job he’d done.

~*~

Qrow groaned as he lifted his head, trying to stretch only to realize that only one arm was mobile. His eyes shot open as the memories of what happened came back and he discovered that the blindfold and gag were both gone. He was finally able to take in his surroundings, a dim stone basement with a table to the side and a simple concrete shower in the corner. His clothes were on the table, Harbinger leaning against the wall next to it. He lifted his still shaking arm to free his other wrist from the leather, allowing it to hang while he sagged in the rest of the bindings which were the only thing holding him up at the moment. 

There was no part of him that didn’t ache, nothing that didn’t feel wrung out to the extreme. He felt raw and sore and _empty_ from Oscar stretching him so much. Much more than he was used to from Oz. It occurred to him, while he tried to gather the strength to free himself the rest of the way, that all of the toys Oscar had used on him were gone. That realization sent fear skittering through him. The only reason he could think of for the kid to want to keep them was if he intended to use it again. Qrow wasn’t sure he could handle this becoming a regular thing like his previous relationships with Oz. The only way he could stop it, though, was to avoid ever getting caught by Oscar again. 

Slowly Qrow worked himself free of the rack holding him, stumbling over to lean against the wall so he could shamble his way to the shower. There was only a bar of soap to clean himself with but he wasn’t in any shape to complain. He tipped his head back, letting the water fill his mouth while he washed, trying to ease the pain in his throat from his screaming. His voice was going to be rough for at least a day and for once he hoped the kids assumed it was from his drinking. He knew he’d never be able to save himself from the accusations if anyone found out what had happened in this basement. As the adult, he would be blamed no matter what, even if he was the victim, just because he was older and Oscar was very much underage. 

He ran a wet hand down his face, forcing the thoughts out of his head before he had a mental meltdown. He couldn’t afford it yet. Maybe once they were in Atlas he could break, but not yet. He had to make it a little further. _Just a little further._ He kept that in his head as he picked up the single, small, coarse towel, drying off quickly and blocking memories of rough gloves sliding over his skin. _Just a little further._ It was always just a little further for him, he thought ruefully as he tugged on his clothes, but it was the only way he could make it sometimes. Leaning on both hands on the table he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to stop the way it shook. _Just a little further…_


End file.
